Feeling Normal
by Not Safe For Workism
Summary: It's not right, this feeling deep in Sanji's chest. The one that forms whenever he so much as looks at Zolo. It's not right and he shouldn't act on it. Shouldn't - but does. And then things change and they aren't just nakama any more but something more than that, something closer than that, and all Sanji can think is that Zolo is /his/.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So, this is my first foray into the world of smut. And I've chosen the One Piece fandom for it! Rather, my friend chose it and this pairing for me. Even assigned me a challenge to go with it. Ain't she just the sweetest thing? I would love to hear what people think of this, so I know whether I should continue rating in this category or not.

Day One - Write a story revolving around a kiss. Simple, sweet, and to the point; the kiss should be just that. No sex allowed in this story. You have to explore the emotional aspect of your chosen pairing - establishing a base as to why they're together.

* * *

Sanji was standing just to Zolo's left, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants and mostly burnt out ciggarette clamped tight between his lips. Dark blue eyes were narrowed slightly, brows creased and full lips in a tight line. Concentrating - just like he had been for the last several minutes.

The first-mate shifted slightly, shoulders pushing further into the hard wood of the main mast. Everything else stayed the same. Mouth lax, eyes closed but for the slightest sliver and breath even, looking for all the world like he was asleep. Both arms were crossed over his chest, right hand resting on the hilt of his swords, fingers twitching slightly every few moments.

Silence. Complete silence - just like it had been since they docked here, on Marojam Island. When everyone but the chef and the swordsman took off for town, for supplies, for a chance away from the boring deck that has become their home.

Zolo stayed for watch.

Sanji offered no reasons. Not even to Nami, who left worried and slightly annoyed. Hardly even a reason was given to himself. Because this wasn't normal, was it? These feelings, these thoughts, the very notion that he should take action on them. None of them were normal.

Then again, Sanji didn't like thinking about it very often. So maybe they were normal, and he had just missed that little notion.

Whatever it was, normal or not, it had led to this. Him, standing over Zolo, believing the other to be asleep, and wondering just what the Hell he should do about _everything_. A decision that he was never truly able to make. Had to just act on, because suddenly a large, strong hand was clamped around his ankle and Zolo was glaring at him, brows creased in annoyed confusion.

"What the Hell?!" barked Sanji, trying to jerk his foot away. The fingers tightened, blunt nails digging into the thick fabric of his suit pants. "Let go of my damn foot, Marimo!"

Zolo shifted slightly, using his free hand to push himself further up the mast, the light fabric of his shirt snagging on the wood as he went. "Why should I?"

"W-what?" stammered Sanji, slightly taken aback by the counter-question.

"You've been standing there for the last five minutes, fucking staring at me." said Zolo, annoyance creeping into his voice. "So why the Hell should I just let you walk off without an explanation?"

For a long moment, at least it seemed very drawn out to the blond, Sanji just stared at him. The sheer fact that Zolo had been awake, had just been _pretending_ to sleep, had blind-sided him. More than that, it had embarressed him. And the chef didn't like being embarressed.

A light blush starting to creep up his neck, Sanji gnashed his teeth together and gave his left leg a violant jerk. Zolo yanked back - and the deck was still wet from an early shower, the chef not expecting the motion, feet flying out from beneath him and then he was falling, falling, falling and slamming into the other mans chest with a grunt.

It was instint, what he did after that. From their constant fights, their scuffles, their arguements. Sanji didn't think when he curled his fists into Zolo's shirt, pulled his knee back as far as he could in the new position and jammed it into the swordsmans side.

Zolo gave a muttered curse, but it was more because he was angry then actually bothered by the half-hearted attack. Confused too, because he didn't get what the other mans issue was. But he went with the flow and wasn't one to back down from a fight, instead curling one calloused hand around a slender shoulder, the other hand twisting around to rest on Sanji's side furthest from him, and flipped the man.

The thunk that sounded from the action, from Sanji being slammed onto the deck and Zolo pinning him there, resounded through-out the empty ship.

They wrestled for a moment, hands and legs flying, faces curled into a snarls and teeth bared. Moments passed by fast, actions blurring and motions fast and angry. It ended with the same noise that it started with, as Zolo slammed Sanji's hand onto the deck above his head, one hand pinning both wrists there. The rest of the swordsman was all but pressed against Sanji, knees pinning down the martial artists thighs, hips against hips, faces inches apart from each other.

Sanji's breaths were coming in hard, fast pants and he knew that it wasn't just because of the short tussle. Zolo didn't seem to notice it though, nor did he seem to notice their too-intimate position.

"Now," he growled, voice low - and Sanji could feel a rush of air hit his face with each word. "what the Hell did you want, perv-chef?"

Silence greeted him, and Sanji found himself taking in every aspect of the slightly older man, just as he had found himself doing the past few months. The sharp yet attractive angles of his face, lips rough and chapped and skin kissed copper from constant training in the sun. Eyes narrowed, but not out of anger or hate, he realized.

Confusion. It was confusion there, and the same emotion was suddenly mirrored in Sanji's own eyes.

"Well?" prompted Zolo, shifting his weight into a more comfortable position. A bunched up section of haramaki pressed into Sanji's groin, drawing forth a slight, breathy gasp.

Zolo pulled his head back some and arched a brow, completely unaware of the fact that leaning his upper half back was putting more weight onto Sanji's crotch. And then Sanji just stopped thinking, because wasn't this what he wanted to get across to Zolo anyway? Hadn't he wanted to tell the other man that he _really fucking liked him_? Wasn't this as good a chance as any?

Sanji thought so, and then he stopped thinking.

He gave a sudden jerk, hands breaking free from the others grasp. One hand flew up and curled around the back of Zolo's neck, the other tightening its grip in the swordsmans shirt, and then Sanji was leaning up and up and up, slamming his lips into Zolo's.

It only lasted for a moment, but in that moment he felt _everything_. Felt just how right it was. How _past normal_ it made him feel. Like he was on top of the world and then some. And then it was over - because Zolo was suddenly scrambling off of him, eyes wide and was that surprise on his face?

Yes, Sanji decided, it was. And that was also a light blush staining his cheeks, as he took several steps away from where Sanji was still laying.

"W-what the fuck was that, bastard?" snarled Zolo, but there was an obvious lack of anger in his words. No chance for Sanji to answer either, because he was already spinning on his heel and disappearing below deck.

Later, Sanji would discover that it had been the swordsmans first kiss since a dark-haired girl, years and years ago. At the moment, he was still trying to decide if he wanted another one.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Second part! Not sure what to think of it, because it was my first time writing for this pairing. Also, I tried to do some thinking in here and plot and stuff and I don't know how it turned out.

Thoughts?

Day Two - Write a story that gets all the way to the bedroom - and then stops. You can describe everything up until it gets to the real hot-and-heavy stuff; then you have to cut off. xD

* * *

The ship was silent, just like that first day so many months ago. When the crew had dissapeared into Marojam Island and Sanji had decided that he couldn't just wait on his feelings any more. That he had to act, even if it wasn't normal and wasn't right - and damn, had it felt good.

Zolo had run off that day, after just a kiss.

Sanji had decided that, yes, it may not have been normal but it felt _right_ and he wanted more.

So the chef started to take more. Slowely, carefully, just a bit of affection here and there. A warm hand after a long fight, something cold on the summer islands, a smile where there would have been a scowl before. Each time, Zolo stared at him and paused and looked like he didn't understand what was going on, but he never made a move to turn it down either.

Never called Sanji out on it, which worked just fine for him. He wasn't entirely sure what it was himself.

Of course, they still fought and that seemed to be a standing point for them. Something that they could both rely on not to change, even when everything about their relationship wa spiraling out of control, faster and faster and faster.

Today was one such day, where everyone else had left to the island and Zolo had done _something_ that had pissed Sanji off. At the moment, deep in the throws of their sparr, the chef didn't remember what it had been. An off-hand comment maybe? Or perhaps Zolo had been into the cooking sherry again.

As he ducked under the swordsmans strike, he turned. Movement fluid, swift, like some kind of deadly dance. His back brushed Zolo's chest - and, yes, that was sherry that he smelled on the taller man.

It was a thought that was there one second, gone the next. Just like everything else in Sanji's mind at the moment. Just like the thought that acknowledged how abosolutely _hot_ Zolo looked, upper part of his shirt damp with sweat and hair tussled from their fight. That thought, too, was gone after just a moment.

Nothing could stay in his mind long when he was moving like this.

Zolo struck out again, this time with two swords, and Sanji let himself drop backwards. His upper body fell, arms outstretched and palms hitting the ground, and he arched his back, legs flying upwards. The bottom of his right shoe stopped the oncoming blow. The toe of the left shoe made contact with a sword, which one Sanji couldn't tell, and sent it flying out of Zolo's hands.

As the swordsman stumbled forwards, trying to recompensate for the lost weight, Sanji let his momentum carry him into a double hand-spring. And, just like that day so many months ago, his palm lands in a puddle of sea-water and shoots out from under him. The rest of his body follows suit, and his back collides painfully with the wooden deck.

What happened next, his mind didn't really understand. Maybe, he thought distantly, Zolo stepped in a pool of water too? Or maybe he just couldn't get his balance back in time? Whatever it was, it ended with the swordsman landing on top of Sanji - and they were back in that same position from before, with Zolo's body so close to Sanji's own, with hips against hips and legs tangled in legs. This time, they were both panting.

Zolo's mind seemed to recognize the situation too, because the fight is forgotten and, with a slight blush creeping along his cheekbone, he started to get up.

And damn if Sanji wasn't going to let that happen. Not this time, not like the last. So he flung one arm up and around Zolo's shoulders, the other fisting the damp fabric of his shirt, and as he pulled down, he also sat up. Their lips met, and then they're chests did too, both rising and falling in time with their pants, and Sanji was scrambling to get some sort of reaction out of the other man. _Any _kind of reaction.

For his part, Zolo seemed to be stunned still by the action. Then Sanji's tongue slipped out, the warm muscle dragging across Zolo's lower lip, tasting the droplets of sweat that had gathered there. It worked and Zolo gave a soft gasp - and Sanji all but pounced on the opportunity, working his tongue into the damp cavern that was the other mans mouth. In the moments that followed, he stroked and explored every inch of Zolo's mouth; across the hard surface of his jaws, over the top of each tooth, the roof and the inner cheeks and then doing his best to wrap it around Zolo's own tongue, trying to coax him to play.

The swordsman melted but didn't do much more than lazily move his own tongue about, let out a breathy gasp into Sanji's mouth, and scoot closer. Their knees knocked together, once, twice, and on the third time one of the blond's hands trailed down Zolo's back, slipped under his ass, and hefted him onto his lap. There was a moment where they broke apart, Zolo squirming to get comfortable and eventually settling with a leg on either side of Sanji's hips, ass on the blond's still clothed cock.

Eyes fluttering closed for a moment, Sanji let out a slight groan - and Zolo froze, body going stiff and still and he was so very warm pressed against Sanji, like nothing the younger man had felt in _years_. When Zolo didn't relax after a few seconds, didn't move or loosen his grip on Sanji's shoulders, the blond dipped his head, lips dancing across Zolo's bare expanse of neck.

And then it's a sudden blur of motion, led by Sanji but followed by Zolo. Pale, slender hands run up and under Zolo's sweat-soaked shirt, fingers dancing across his back, exploring the dips of his muscles, and then it wass gone and tossed on the other side of the deck. Sanji's jacket and shirt followed soon after, as the blond gently pushed the man off him, switchign them around so Zolo was on the deck and he was laying on top of him - and then the chef dipped his head once more, leaving a trail of kisses from Zolo's neck, down his collar bone, and to one pert nipple.

When he wrapped his lips around it and started to suckle, Zolo arched up into his mouth and gave a lo groan. He held his hands in the air for a moment, like he didn't really know what to do with them, before settling them onto Sanji's shoulders.

And that was when it hit him. Be it from the fact that such a small action has caused such a big effect (and it has, Sanji could tell, from the sudden hardness pressed against his inner thigh), or just from the fact that he wasn't fighting for dominance, Sanji didn't know.

Just that it had to be true.

With a final nip that earned a soft groan from the older man, Sanji pulled away. A smirk flickered across his face - and the sight of Zolo laying there beneath him, cheeks stained red and breath already coming in heavy pants, eyes still hinted with unease.

"You've never done this before, have you?" he asked, and the very idea that big, strong, handsome Zolo had never fucked anyone was enough to make him snigger.

Zolo's face grew a shade darker, and he gave an annoyed huff. "Sh-shut up, damn bastard! I've had things on my mind, damnit..."

Which meant, Sanji realized with a start, that he would be Zolo's first.

The realization sent a jolt to his cock, and suddenly it didn't matter that Zolo wasn't doing much in return. All that mattered was that when his lips returned to the green-haired mans nipple, perk and dark and so very, very _sweet_, it was with the knowledge that he would be the first one to do so. When his lips moved down further, leaving increasingly wet kisses along each pectoral, dipping his tongue into his navel (and that brought a soft gasp from the other man, who tilted his head back and closed his eyes, trying not to worry about what was happening), and moving until his chin was pressed against the thick, green swathe of haramaki.

Eyes partially lidded, Sanji glanced up at Zolo. Past the finely tuned muscles and quivering chest, all he could see was an upturned chin. Deft fingers untied the knot in the fabric, and it was pulled out from under him, then tossed aside to join their shirts. For a moment, his fingers hovered above the copper button of Zolo's pants - and that was when the swordsman stiffened again, head lifting up slightly to stare at Sanji and was that apprehension in his eyes?

It was, Sanji decided, and his tongue darted out to lick at suddenly dry lips. His mouth felt like cotton, scratchy and dry; suddenly worried that if he let Zolo speak, it would be an end to this, an end before it even started.

So Sanji didn't let him speak. Instead, he let his hands drop away from the button and slide along the dip where thigh melded into hip, grasping onto Zolo's sides and digging his fingers in just slightly, and then he drug his tongue across the swordsmans still clothed erection.

Anything that may have been building in Zolo's throat disappeared and he let his head drop back, hitting the deck with a slight clunk. Sanji did it a second time, just as slowley, and then a third - and the third time brought out a soft moan, which just encouraged the chef and then he wasn't just tempting, he was licking and slaving over Zolo, determined to give the other man a reason to want to stay.

Maybe even a reason to stay once they were through?

The second thought was there, then gone, and with it the button of Zolo's trousers. Sanji slid one hand under the swordsmans waist, the other hand tugging down the heavy and spittle covered fabric, only to pause and take in the sight it revealed. Boxers, epectedly plain and black and drab, with an unmistakeble tent in them as Zolo's cock strained to get it.

"Neh, Zolo...Looks like you _are_ having fun." mused Sanji, half to himself, half to bring Zolo's attention onto what he was doing.

It worked.

Lifting his head slightly, Sanji was greeted with the flushed face of his nakama. Zolo opened his mouth, but nothing came out - and, actually, the chef was fine with that. It left him with more room to do as he pleased.

With more room, to slip a hand under the waist band of Zolo's conservative briefs, fingers just barely grazing the shaft, trailing from its base up to its weeping tip.

More room to bring forth those delicious mewls and grunts, as Zolo pressed into Sanji's taunting fingers, biting down on his lip to stop from _begging_ for more.

Room to tug down the swordsmans boxer and take in the sight of his pulsing cock. It was shorter than his own, Sanji noted, but it was also far thicker and the skin was currently a brillient hue of burgundy, the mushroomed tip already dripping with precum.

A slight smirk grazed his lips, then a slight smile, and then he was bending down, down, down, and wrapping his lips just around the head of Zolo's dick. Said first-mate moaned and everything tensed, hips jerking just slightly, body begging for more - and, yes, Sanji was determined to give it to him.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So, this is the last part! I think this worked well for my first real smut story, and I would really love to hear what everyone else thought of it.

Day Three: Write a story that, well, is nothing short of smut. The catch is that you have to include at least one kink - no matter how out-there or mild it is.

* * *

"Oi, Zolo!" called Sanji, pushing the door to the galley open slightly. He kept one hand on the door knob, light blue eyes scanning the deck for his chosen prey.

Nami glanced up from her magazine - and there was an almost knowing look on her face, which the chef pointedly ignored, taking in instead the fact that she was motioning towards the mast.

And it was a flashback, like it was everytime he stepped out onto the deck. Zolo was laying at the base of the main mast, shoulders propped against the dark wood and arms folded over his chest, eyes closed halfway as he stared out at the sea. Like he could care less about what was going on around him; but Sanji cared, because he could still feel the other mans chapped lips against his own, still taste the peculiar tang of bitter salt in his mouth.

Still, he tried his best to school his features into something less open. Tilting his head to the said, he called out the swordsmans name a second time, louder then before, and Zolo lazily turned his head and raised his eyebrow.

"What do you want, shit-cook?" he asked, but there was no real gruffness to it. In fact, it almost sounded wary.

Ignoring that, because it made sense in a way and he was just a little wary around Zolo too right now, Sanji motioned towards the kitchen. "Get your ass over here and help me with these dishes. Usopp did it earlier, and I'm not going to make the ladies muss up their hands."

Then he turned and disappeared back into the galley, not waiting to see if the swordsman was following. If things were how Sanji thought they were, then he would have company in a few moments. And...if not...then he really was wrong and sick and a freak, and maybe they would both be able to forget about what happened before, but probably not.

And he didn't know why that thought made his stomach churn, but it did. It made his heart pound in his chest and the palms of his hands start to sweat. Enough so that, when the door to the kitchen opens, he jumps slightly, plunging his hands deep in the sudsy water of the sink.

"What?" questioned Zolo - and there was a slight smirk in his voice, which let Sanji know that he had seen. But it didn't matter because he had shown up and that was perfect and felt so right to know that.

The blond didn't look up from the sink, trying to keep his expression blank. "I told you. It's your turn to help with the dishes, bastard marimo."

Silence, then footsteps as Zolo moved through the room. Coming to a stop beside Sanji, close but far enough away that they weren't quite touching, and that felt so very _cold_ to the cehf, who could remember just how _warm_ he'd been before.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything. Sanji washed the dishes from breakfast, then handed them to Zolo, who dried them and stacked them on the counter. He wasn't allowed to put anything away, as he always ended up shoving things into the wrong cabinet or drawer.

"Hey, shit-cook?" Zolo eventually asked, and if Sanji was ashamed that he broke the silence first, he didn't show it. Just kept his eyes on the soap-clouded water and let out a 'hmm'. "What the Hell's been going on with you lately? First that kiss, then...before...on the deck."

Sanji blinked, and at first all he could think about was that Zolo was being very frank in his approach and, yes, that seemed right. Then it hit him that he'd avoided actually saying what went on the day before, when their fight had twisted and turned and evolved into something bigger, something more.

He smirked slightly, glancing out of the corner of one eye at the slightly older man, savoring the light dusting of pink on his cheeks. "You mean when I sucked you off?"

Zolo stiffened and that blush grew a little darker, creeping from his cheek bones down along the side of his neck. He gave a short, sharp nod, wiping the plate in his hands a little rougher then he should have.

Didn't say it though, and that fact both amused Sanji and turned him on - because that just proved how completely out of his depths Zolo was when it came to this, completely unused to anything and everything and, God damnit, Sanji wanted to be the one to show him the ropes.

"Thought you liked it?" asked Sanji, off handedly, and forced himself to look away from the swordsman. He swished the dishrag over the top of a dish and, oh, that one was already clean? Huh.

"Th-that's not the point!" snapped Zolo - and that seemed to be the breaking point for the green-haired man, who slammed his slightly damp rag down on the counter next to the stack of dishes. "And that's not what I asked either, damnit!"

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Sanji asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. He knew what he wanted, obviously, and shouldn't have had any problem saying it because it was all he'd been able to think about these last few weeks. But, suddenly, the words were caught in his throat and Zolo was pissing him off, even if he wasn't doing anything but being rightfully curious.

Zolo spun around so that he was facing Sanji, crossing both arms over his chest as he did. "I want you to tell me where the Hell your heads been these last few days! Fuck, Sanji, I'm not some stupid whore you can just pick up and drop off, and I don't have the time to deal with you just because you're suddenly horny and you want an easy fuck!"

There was too much that he had to do, Zolo told himself, and that was why he was wording it that way. Because he had training to focus on. Not because it would hurt too damn much to be used and forgotten.

For his part, Sanji found himself unable to say anything right away. It _stung_ to hear that from Zolo, to realize that's what the other man thought of him. Then he was pulling the ciggarette out from inbetween his lips and crushing it under his heel - and all he could think about was proving Zolo wrong, even if he couldn't bring himself to say those three words just yet.

Flinging himself foreward, he latched a hand onto Zolo's shoulder, the other weaving into the short strands of hair at the base of the swordsman neck. He clenched his eyes shut and pressed their lips together; and it was a simple kiss compared to the last time, when it had been tongue and teeth and spit. It was a nervous kiss, a tense kiss, and all Sanji could think was that he hoped Zolo wouldn't pull away.

He didn't, but he didn't move away either. And that was a step in the right direction, wasn't it? Yes, Sanji decided, it most certainly was.

"I don't want an easy fuck, Zolo." Sanji muttered, pulling away slightly. Just enough so that he could speak, but his hot breath still ghosted across the other mans face. "I want to be with _you_, and I want to make _you_ feel good."

He could feel Zolo stiffen up, and could see his jaw tighten. But he could see wheels turning too, and tried to put every ounce of feeling that he had into his eyes, tried to let the swordsman see that he was telling the complete and utter truth.

"Me?" breathed Zolo, and he raised his brows slightly. Still didn't move away, though. Just stared at the chef and tried to will his blush away.

Sanji nodded, eyes closing half-way. He leaned foreward, nuzzling against the crook of Zolo's neck. "Mhmm. Let me...show you?"

Zolo opened his mouth to say something, anything, only to snap it shut when a warm, wet _something_ drug itself across his neck. The chef showered it in kisses and licks, trying to find that one spot he knew would be there, the one spot that could prove his point. When he did, Zolo let out a shuddering gasp and tilted his head slightly, showing off more of his bare neck to the blond,a dn Sanji took full advantage of it.

Kisses and licks suddenly disappeared, and Sanji started to lightly suck on the tender patch of skin. Every time Zolo took a breath, he could feel his throat shudder and his chest heave - and Sanji just kept sucking at it harder and harder, trying to mark Zolo as his own, as his, his, _his_. Lost in his own mind, uncaring that he was getting rougher and rougher, that his fingers had tangled in the short hair and were tugging and pulling.

That's when he heard it. A soft, barely there moan, as Zolo tilted his head - and he didn't know whether to lean into Sanji's mouth, or into his hand, because, damn, he must have been sick but both felt so good.

Sanji paused, then smirked against the bruised piece of flesh. "Damn masochist..."

Zolo grumbled something, then let his head fall to the side and _groaned_ as Sanji's teeth met his neck. Hard enough that the skin began to take on a deep purple tone, and there would certainly be a bruise there in the morning but, fuck, he didn't care.

And Sanji didn't either. He gave the already bruised piece of skin a gentle lick, one hand trailing down Zolo's back, nails dragging against it, and moving to cup his ass.

"C'mon, Zolo..." he whispered, lips moving against the other mans neck. "Let me show you...please."

Stubborn silence, broken only by the first mates already heavy breathing filled the air. Then Sanji was given a single, harsh nod - and he didn't need any other invitation before he was hefting Zolo up and onto the counter, undoing his pants with one hand and his own with another. Both were tugged down, and Sanji just went ahead and brought both of their boxers along with them.

Zolo stiffened, and Sanji was quite certain that it wasn't just because his cock was suddenly exposed to cool air. The thought that Zolo was new to this, had never done any of this before, it was still at the forefront of the his mind and sending jolts of pleasure through him, all the way down to his own dick.

"Don't worry, marimo." he said softly, taking Zolo's cock with one hand. Fingers started to trail up its shaft and to its tip, where a thumb rubbed circles over the mushroomed head. His other hand moved down further, dancing around Zolo's base and then moving to cup his balls. "I'll make you feel _real_ good."

Beneath him, Zolo let out a shuddering gasp and gave a slight buck of his hips. "Ngh...fuck, damn cook..."

"Eh? No, I don't think so, marimo." Sanji smirked, and then he dropped to his knees and bobbed his head down, wrapping his lips around the mushroomed head of the other mans cock.

It was like that started an out of control spiral, as Sanji's tongue began to massage the hard muscle, flicking up by the head and then trailing down, down, _down_, until Zolo's cock was bumping the back of his throat. At the same time, the blond let his other hand explore more; moving from Zolo's ballsack and up to his ass cheeks, forcing a finger inbetween them and pressing it against his virgin anus.

Zolo moved like he was torn between moving closer to Sanji, and pulling away - because he was still a little uncertain, and maybe he was a tiny bit afraid of the idea of having Sanji inside of him. He said none of that though, and just let out loud and needy sounding pants as Sanji continued to work at his cock.

When the chef slipped the first finger inside, Zolo's entire body tensed up. Enough that his breathing came to a hault and Sanji couldn't move his finger, not even a little, not even to search for the other mans prostate.

So Sanji tried to focus more attention on the green-haired mans cock, absolutely coating it in the saliva now running freely out of his mouth. And, God damn, if the noises that Zolo had started to make weren't making this whole thing that much harder on Sanji, who wanted nothing more than to bury himself in Zolo's tight warmth.

Which meant, the moment he was able too, he forced a second finger inside of Zolo - and said man froze up again, but Sanji could feel the struggle to relax. He smirked against the cock in his mouth, because that was just like Zolo, not wanting to admit that he was pain even now, when Sanji fully understood how much it must have been hurting him.

Like he was being ripped in two, the chef was sure, because at one point in time he had felt the same thing.

Crooking his fingers, Sanji felt around until they brushed against that _one spot_ inside of him that had Zolo gasping and bucking into his mouth. Sanji gave a strangled gasp but let the head of the cock hit the back of his throat - and then Zolo was writhing and groaning as burst after burst of cum shot into his mouth.

When Sanji pulled back, viscous cum still held in the bottom of his mouth, the last few strings of white shooting against his chin and closed lips. He looked up at Zolo; who was staring down at him with barely open eyes, face flushed and breath coming in harsh pants, chest heaving. Then he rocked onto his heels, spitting Zolo's cum onto his hand (and pulling his fingers out of Zolo as he did), and moving to slather his dick in it.

Sanji gave a soft moan as he jerked himself off, spreading the essence of Zolo all over himself. With his free hand, he tugged on the green-haired mans thigh, beckoning him to join him on the floor.

Zolo was still for a moment, then slid from the counter almost bonelessly, hitting his knees and leaning foreward, this time capturing Sanji's mouth with his own. And, fuck, was that what he tasted like? All bitterness and sweat.

The chef slipped his tongue inbetween Zolo's lips, letting himself fall back onto his ass and tugging Zolo closer to him. Let the swordsman straddle him and, while Zolo was preoccupied, he positioned himself over his entrance. In one sharp jerk, Sanji was in to the base, mouth muffling Zolo's sudden scream.

After that it was nothing but harsh panting and pain. Sanji forced himself to be still (and, fuck, the tightness is almost enough to hurt and the _heat_ makes it feel as though he's on fire), and let Zolo's blunt nails dig into his shoulders. A soft kiss here, a whispered word of comfort - and then after what seemed like forever but was only just a few seconds, Zolo shifted his weight. Just slightly, but it was enough to send jolts of electricity through Sanji and bring a moan from his soft, pale lips.

"G-go on...mo-move..." grunted Zolo, and even though Sanji knew it was too soon for him to have adjusted, he listened to the pained command. Started thrusting in small, sharp jerks.

Then it was motion and heat and passion, as the two moaned against each other, trying to keep noise to a minimum but at the same time not really caring. It didn't take long for them to find a rhythem, moving with each other like one being instead of two, lost in the heat of the moment.

And it felt so right, Sanji thought at one point, to be this way with him. Like nothing else he had ever felt before, like nothing he ever wanted to leave.

Sanji could feel the pressure building up at the base of his cock. Knew he wouldn't last much longer, but didn't want to be the one to cum first. And, a part of him voiced, hadn't he said he would make _Zolo_ feel good?

So, without thinking, he broke the kiss and instead bit down on the tender flesh between neck and shoulder blade. Hard. Enough so that the skin burst and he could taste the copper-like tang of blood; and at the same time, Zolo threw his head back and _howled_, cuming hard against Sanji's shirt, clenching down and milking the chef for all he was worth.

Sanji gave a few weak thrusts as he orgasmed - and a part of him was amused at how pain affected the swordsman, even in the most intimate parts of his life. Then they were both still, nothing breaking silence of the kitchen except for their own harsh breaths, Zolo's eyes closed and head resting on Sanji's shoulder.

"Told you..." the chef breathed out, tilting his head so that his chin was resting on Zolo's head, enjoying the view of the swordsmans curved back and round ass, with his dick still buried balls deep inside.

Zolo said nothing. Just kept breathing, fast and harsh.

So Sanji continued, because he'd already shown the swordsman everything. There was no point in keeping what he felt a secret any longer. "...love you, Zolo. 'Kay? Never thought you were just a fuck."

More silence, and for a moment Sanji started to worry. Then Zolo nuzzled his head against Sanji, letting out a content sigh. "You too, shit-cook."


End file.
